


The Lady and The Serpent

by SecretGeneration



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, choni, older/younger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-06-30 18:50:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretGeneration/pseuds/SecretGeneration
Summary: In a grocery store, of all places, Toni's appetite is piqued.ORToni spots a beautiful older woman while shopping and just has to talk to her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in a long while, but this came to me and it's been nice to dust away some of the cobwebs. It may stay a one shot or I may add more.
> 
> @stanning4choni on tumblr

Something about the way middle-aged women are put together, so clean and established, has always spoken to Toni's appetite.

So it's fitting that she first sees her in a grocery store. A leggy five-foot something with delicate porcelain skin and autumnal orange hair swept into an intricate bun, her stylish take on quaint dress put together so cleanly that Toni might believe she just stepped out of the 1950's.

"She's straight."

"So's spaghetti until it's wet," Toni counters, dragging hooded eyes away from the lady to arch Fangs a challenging eyebrow.

He hums a close-mouthed chuckle, tossing some gummy bears into their shopping basket, and they fall into a steady stroll along the aisle, Toni once more watching the lady inspect polished red apples.

"Fuck. She's so beautiful I'm kinda finding it hard to breathe right now," she admits, though her casual exterior reflects nothing of the sort, save her adjusting the knot securing the flannel shirt around her waist.

"She's a smokeshow alright. But she must be, what, mid to late thirties?"

"Your point?"

"I thought you already worked your mommy issues out with – what was her name?"

"First off, fuck you; I _never_ had mommy issues. And are you talking about January?"

"That's the one."

Toni's tongue darts out to swipe some moisture back into her lips. "Like, I'm sure she already feels it 'cause – I mean, have you seen her? But I'd give anything right now to make her feel _the_ most beautiful she's ever felt."

Fangs' brow furrows. "Who January? Didn't you drive a pick-up through her front window the last time you guys saw each other?"

"God, whose talking about _January_? _Try_ to keep up?"

"Oh, you're talking about Red over there. So what's our plan of attack?" Fangs asks, taking on a loyal air of practicality.

"Aw, that's sweet Fangs. But I don't know – maybe I'll go flirt with her over some fruit."

"Sounds good." Fangs pats Toni's butt as if to usher her along. "Now make me a proud father and go break her back in."

He receives a swift middle finger for his troubles.

Toni inches her way to the woman in calculated stops and starts, pausing here and there to _read_ the calorie content on products she knowingly has no intention of buying.

Her feigned perusal of packaged pears sees her to her destination: stood centimeters from the poised, cinnamon-rose-scented beauty, who's still engaged in an intense stare-off with apples the same hue as that coating her sensuous lips.

Toni pulls in a quiet breath, the moment pregnant...

"You're, uh, you're serious about your apple selection huh?"

The husky murmur collapses the woman's focus, coaxing her curious brown eyes to its perpetrator.

Fanned eyelashes as dark as secrets slowly blink in pink highlights, smooth mocha skin, full shapely lips, and Serpent leather.

The result is her pale throat bobbing around a languid swallow, which sees Toni's cheekbones round to accommodate a slow-rising smirk.

The woman clears her throat then, glancing the scant contents of her shopping basket in what Toni guesses is an attempt to gather herself. "Yes, well I um, I hope to make my famous apple pie for guests tonight. The grocer I typically frequent for my usual apple brand was closed, so I'm feeling some pressure to choose a replacement fit for fussy palates."

Toni suspects she's always so meticulous. But she doesn't say so.

Instead she grabs _the_ apple, turning her palm up so she can experience the fruit's weight.

"This one," she recommends after a beat, to which the woman frowns.

"Pardon?"

"This one," Toni reiterates behind a sensual grin, watching the woman through thick eyelashes. "You've picked it up and put it down so many times I figure there must be _something_ about it that speaks to you."

Somehow Red manages to stand straighter. "And how would you know of my past interactions with it?"

"Well," Toni begins, pensive in the way that she folds her lips in on each other. She decides to relax them, shrugging a shoulder. "You're kinda impossible not to stare at, Red."

The woman's mouth falls ajar, her quiet, "oh," leaving it seconds later.

Toni half winces, half smiles. " _Yeah_ ," she exhales, suppressing a pained groan. "You can tell me to back off if you want and I will. Like, I'm not some creeper or anything. I just had to at least try to come and talk to you. But... no pressure."

"No I... it's, it's not – I've never –"

"No I get it. It's cool." Toni smiles, albeit a little crestfallen. "Well then," she drawls, stalling because she could swear she'd gotten sapphic vibes from Red, "it was nice to hold your attention for so long. It's not every day you run into the world's most stunning woman, right? I'll uh, go find my friend and let you get back to your day."

"I'm married," comes the woman's sudden murmur, spoken almost to her own chest. Like peripheral ears aren't welcome.

Toni halts; time, space, and everything in-between suspended.

She peers into soft brown pools now teeming with quiet vulnerability and forbidden want, noting the adorable blush mapping Red's once milky sternum.

"You're unreasonably attractive when you blush, you know that?"

Toni receives no response but for an amused coy gaze that won't focus on any one thing.

"What's your name, Red?"

Two or three beats of silence pass. Then: "Cheryl... Blossom."

"Well I'm Toni... Topaz," Toni mocks, smirking.

"Oh stop it," Cheryl chuckles, and it's haughty and ladylike, and Toni _knows_ she's _gone_!

They stare at one another, exchanging muted smiles, neither saying a thing.

At least until Toni remembers: Cheryl is married.

Not that that's ever stopped Toni before. But Cheryl, she seems proper. Like she's honorable and loyal and... ultimately unattainable.

"You're married."

Cheryl's smile disintegrates, its last remnants eaten away by her conflicted frown.

Toni nods a couple times. "Okay. Well if it doesn't work out, Cheryl Blossom, ask around, and if anybody wants to know why you're looking for me, say you want some work done on your car."

She puts the apple she's holding back and walks away, never hearing Cheryl whisper, "I'll do that."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys requested a continuation of this, so here it is. Thanks to all those who commented and enjoyed chapter one.
> 
> Stanning4choni on Tumblr

A Serpent acquaintance tells Tall Boy, who tells Jughead, and Jughead tells Sweet Pea, who tells Toni, "streets are saying there's this Northside redhead asking around after you."

Toni simply smirks and continues to wipe down the bar top.

* * *

 

The phone call comes the following Wednesday evening.

"Wait shh," Toni hushes Fangs, who palm smothers his rosy-cheeked weed-induced giggle as she thrusts the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

Silence.

One beat.

Two beats.

"Who is it?" Fangs whispers.

Three beats into five.

Flicking ash from the blunt she's just drawn a long puff on, Toni waits; deliberate, fortifying breaths swelling and ebbing in her ear.

She suddenly hears a quiet moist gulp and a hollow clink, a glass meeting some sort of surface, she assumes.

Then, off a wispy tremulous inhale, it comes full and rich. "Hello. Have I reached one Toni Topaz?"

And with _that_ Toni's lips twitch upon a sultry grin.

She shoos her curious Serpent brother from her room, ousts the blunt, and drops herself at the foot of her deshevelled bed, bringing one knee up to rest her chin on. "You're speaking to Toni, yeah."

"It's – this is... This is Cheryl. Blossom."

"I know who it is."

A pause.

"Well it's convenient that you remember me, otherwise this would be even _more_ awkward wouldn't it?"

Toni barks a laugh, warmed by Red's willingness to poke fun at herself. She scoots up the bed to recline against her fraying pillow, letting the hard mattress reach through her high to anchor her. "You're fine, Cheryl. This isn't awkward. Honestly? It's actually really freaking endearing."

Cheryl hums. "Endearing," she rolls around her drying palate, throat revolving on a tight swallow as she grapples her shaky voice into steady compliance. "Now there's an adjective few would use to describe me."

"With all due respect, they don't know shit. You're adorable."

"I – thank you," Cheryl mutters, clearing her throat. "I, um, still maintain acknowledgement of... my fumbling introduction." She clears her throat again, louder this time. "But if you're this certain it endears me who am I to disagree?"

Dark manicured eyebrows edge up, drawing towards each other in empathy. "Cheryl, relax," Toni soothes, wanting to curl a soft ginger lock behind a pale ear. "You're fine. This isn't awkward, okay?"

"If you say so."

"I say so, Red."

A soft amused grunt reverberates in the back of Cheryl's throat. "I suppose it is gospel then."

"No supposing. It's just gospel," Toni finalizes, smirk audible in her voice. "Like, awkward would be something cringe like dropping your voice crazy deep and asking me to tell you what I'm wearing."

It takes a moment for her to realize she may have pushed too hard, that Red doesn't yet know her humor, and she quickly clarifies, "shit, I wasn't dropping hints or anything."

"Oh. Well how disappointing," comes Cheryl's unexpected retort, and it's plush low provocative timbres and snooty sophistication. And _this_ Cheryl, the one who's finding her footing, is _not_ the same woman who had to down a drink to say hello.

"Fuck," Toni sighs on a shuddered breath. "You're killing me here, Red."

That haughty chuckle funnels into her ear, something girlish, novel, and liberated about it, like applying one's first coat of mascara correctly or that first teenage sleepover, and Toni floods with the inkling that this is a rite of passage for Red.

The likelihood that she's the first woman Cheryl's ever dared to flirt with.

"Believe it or not Toni, I didn't call to kill you. Far from it. I actually wanted to ask if you – well I was wondering if... maybe you'd allow me to, to perhaps take you out. Dinner? Perhaps you might want to partake in a bit of dancing afterward?"

A good eight to ten seconds later Toni's _still_ recovering.

"I didn't scare you off did I?" Cheryl panics in that prim cadence. "Was it the dancing suggestion, because we don't have to –"

"God, you're so adorable I can't take it – but no. No you didn't scare me off, Cheryl."

"Good. Then may I have an answer?"

Toni laughs. Brash and unrestrained, Cheryl notices around a small anticipatory smile.

"Are you _serious_? Of course you can take me out! I just – this is new 'cause women don't typically ask me. That's usually my gig. But, shit – yeah, of course we can go out, I'd love to."

"Brilliant," Cheryl murmurs, clammy hands stilling mid wring. Her mouth remains dry though.

And for good reason.

"Toni, there's something you should know before you fully commit to saying yes. And I suppose I should have led with this."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"To put it succinctly, my marriage is a deeply unfulfilling sham. But it's still a marriage, and that won't change anytime soon."

She lets that echo between them, heart galloping beneath the rich red silk of her nightgown, antsy doppelganger confronting her in the buckled reflection of her empty wine glass.

"Hey it's not like I expected you to be divorced and ready for something serious. I mean, it's only been a few months or something since the grocery store, right?"

 _Three months, one week, and two days_ , Cheryl wants to recite, but doesn't.

"Look Cheryl, we don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. If you just wanna grab dinner, hang out, and enjoy each other's company and it goes no further, I'm cool with that."

All Cheryl gleans is that Toni's words sound distinctly vaguer and less invested than _I'd love to!_

"Is, is this your way of withdrawing your decision to accept the dinner invitation as a more than platonic undertaking? Because as disappointing as that would be I'd understand."

"I'm not saying I'm not interested anymore. I'm just tryna let you know I'm easy either way with how things go."

 _Easy_.

Cheryl would quip the obvious innuendo but, as it happens, nothing about Toni – about _this_ is easy for her, save that twitch between her thighs at the thought of sweeping her palms over smooth brown skin. Pressing kisses to it. Feeling it constrict and flutter beneath her tongue. And that, too, serves up long ingrained sentiments of deviance, deplorability, and _struggle_.

"Like, once we sit down and actually get talking we might hate each other and drinks might even get thrown," Toni chuckles. "And that'd be fine too. I guess what I'm saying is: let's just let it be whatever it is. Take things easy and go with the flow."

"Go with the flow," Cheryl parrots, as though it's this foreign concept.

And it might as well be.

She's Cheryl Marjorie Blossom.

She's never just... _gone with the flow_.

Her life's been a series of meticulously crafted events. What's expected of her, her role, has always been clear. Rigid. Laid out before her like a day-to-day uniform. Follow _the_ path. No deviations. No questions asked. No exceptions.

Toni isn't any of that.

She isn't clinked wine glasses toasting hard fought victories over business rivals, or sexual encounters with men to keep _mumsie_ happy. She isn't perfect posture and presentation at all times, not a hair out of place. She isn't graduating with honors, or the extravagant conventional white wedding by age thirty.

Toni is the genie that won't stay in the bottle.

And Cheryl's never wanted to pop the cork more.

Going with the flow is the only way this works; Toni is right, Cheryl concedes, sat in the dark of her sleek modern kitchen eyeing the neat settling of red apples atop the marble counter. "Okay." She nods once, slowly. "As you wisely suggested, we'll go with the flow."

"Thanks for being upfront with me, Cheryl. About your situation. You could've kept me in the dark but you didn't. You gave it to me blunt, ready to let me back out if I wanted. I appreciate that."

"Well aside from the fact that it was the respectful thing to do, I was merely returning the favor. You could've pushed for me to take down your number at the grocery store," Cheryl explains, "but you understood that boundary, leaving the choice to get in touch with me. All while knowing I might never seek you out. I truly appreciated your respect and consideration for me and my marriage, and I was left marveling at not only your nerve but at your capacity for emotional intelligence."

"My nerve and emotional intelligence huh? Anything else you wanna stroke my ego over?"

It's said in jest.

But Cheryl sits up and leans heavy forearms on her dining table, _so_ serious when she says, "I've always noticed women, Toni. Their soft eyes. Kissable lips. Slender hips to rotund. But you are by far the most alluring. The most intriguing. I couldn't _not_ seek you out. Does that sufficiently stroke your ego?"

"Fuck, Cheryl, I really don't even know what to say to that."

"Don't say anything. Just sit there and look pretty, which no doubt you're already doing."

"Well someone's gotta give you some competition, Red," Toni teases.

Cheryl scoffs, recalling her slowing metabolism and the countless anti-aging products that line her dresser. "I'm hardly competition, which brings me to something I've been pondering. If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?"

Toni's lips fashion an impish smirk. "How old do you think I am, Cheryl?"

"I don't know. That is in fact why I'm asking."

"Wait, did you just give me attitude?"

"I would more say it was sass. But I believe so Toni, yes."

"Okay, so I'm liking this sassy you _way_ more than I probably should, and I wouldn't be mad if you kept it coming."

"Be careful what you wish for; you just might get it."

"I'm twenty-four."

A pause.

"Okay."

"Is that a problem, Cheryl?"

"I don't know; I think that depends on you."

"How'd you figure?"

Cheryl's fingertips drum a stilted rhythm on her dining table. She flexes her hand, watching the pale flesh furrow unattractively. "Well, you should know that I'm thirty-seven."

"So we're both adults. Nice," Toni says, hoping to quell Red's palpable insecurity with the quip.

Still it doesn't deter, "so you're okay with that?"

"Cheryl, some of the most desirable women I've ever seen are thirty and up. You blow them _all_ out of the water. When I saw you looking at those apples I just – _damn._ " Toni tuts on a slow lateral head shake, still awed _._ "My chest - it was hard to breathe for a second there."

An encouraged smile tilts Cheryl's lips and she relaxes in her skin. "You know, I would never have known. You're somewhat of a - how do they say – cool customer." 

"Gotta rock the pink streaks, smoke the cigarettes, and be chill if you wanna be the cool chick who gets the girl, right?"

"I do adore the hair, I must say. And I just knew you were a smoker. Your voice, sometimes it breaks in the most captivating way."

"Play your cards right and maybe I'll drop _my_ voice to a low purr and ask _you_ what _you're_ wearing."

Cheryl snorts. "Are you always such the rascal of a Wednesday evening?"

"Only when I talk to stunning women who've clearly only gotten more stunning with time, and will continue to get more stunning with time."

"Do you have one of these mythical women on another line or something, because I thought you were talking to me?"

Toni's eyelids fall shut, her lips riding up over grinning white teeth as she basks in the flirtatious energy of the moment. "I know you know I'm talking about you, Red."

"You're sweet, Toni."

"You deserve sweet, Cheryl. And you're gonna get sweet when I'm around; I'll make sure of it."

At that, unexpected pressure builds at the base of Cheryl's neck, creeping up until there's a dull ache filling her throat.

She wills the sensation away, tells herself to stop being silly – that she won't cry simply because this beautiful thoughtful stranger is being tender and kind with her when even her own mother won't. That she won't cry simply because when Toni's says soft things, she believes her.

"You still there Red, or did I lose you?" Toni asks, eyelids drifting up to reveal slightly unsure eyes.

Cheryl sniffs one good time, schooling her voice as she answers, "yes, I'm still here," later relieved when she deems she sounded normal.

"Are you okay?"

Apparently not normal enough.

She rolls fond eyes at Toni's perceptiveness. "Yes I'm okay, thank you. I'm actually the best I've been in a while in fact."

"Me too, crazily enough."

Cheryl sniffs again, quieter and less emphatic. "Are you free on Saturday evening around eight?" she asks.

"Shit, I am now." 

Cheryl's chest quakes as a deep chuckle works through her. She then calms herself, tucking some hair behind her ear. "In that case I'll make the necessary arrangements and text you the details."

"Sure. And if you wanna call or text in the meantime, don't feel like you can't."

"Okay."

"Okay then."

"Have yourself a good night, Toni."

"You too Cheryl."

"Thank you, I will. Bye."

"Bye Cheryl."

Neither hangs up, both caught in the bliss of hearing the other breathe.

"Why haven't you hung up?" Cheryl accuses after a moment, playful with it.

"Same reason you haven't, Red."

"I was waiting for you to first."

"Same."

"Are we really going to partake in the _you hang up, no you hang up first_ cliché, Toni?"

"We sure are. Hang up first."

"No. You hang up first."

"Guess we're gonna be here all night."

It's silly and frolicsome and perhaps slightly juvenile. And it's everything Cheryl deems she should've experienced as a teenager, but didn't.

Big indulgent grin stretching her lips, she rolls her eyes. "How about we both hang up simultaneously?"

"On three then," Toni suggests. "I'll count."

"Have your finger at the ready."

"Oh it's ready. Have yours ready."

"It is."

"Okay. One. Two. Three."

True to their word they both hang up, rendering the line dead. But neither woman has ever felt more alive.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was enjoyable. Tell me what you think.


End file.
